


Of Naps and Cakes

by LayneyPotPie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Awake The Snake, Fluff, Handholding, I started this as a funny fic, M/M, Quarantine, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sweet, after the nap, it turned into sweet fluff, quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:28:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25011661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LayneyPotPie/pseuds/LayneyPotPie
Summary: Aziraphale bakes desserts during Lockdown, while Crowley naps.  Eventually, the angel gets bored and misses his demon.  When Crowley wakes up, fluff happens.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 44
Collections: AwakeTheSnake





	Of Naps and Cakes

“I’ll set the alarm clock for July.” Aziraphale felt only slightly bad for turning Crowley down in favor of eating cake holed up in his cozy bookshop by himself. He had been rather looking forward to the weeks of baking, experimenting with recipes, and tasting the sweet treats. He had plans for cakes and tarts, tortes and danishes, rolls and puddings. It was going to be splendid!

And, it was. For another week or so. But Aziraphale did notice that, though his culinary results were quite good, his enjoyment of his desserts had waned a little each day. He found this puzzling at first. Why should this be so? He loved delicious things, and these things were delicious. Something was missing. Aziraphale, the clever angel he was, decided he would shake things up by trying different wines and salty nibbles before enjoying his desserts. While quite good, something was still missing. 

He was pottering about his shop in early June when he accidentally knocked a writing pen off of an end table. He picked it up and briefly inspected it. It was from the bistro three blocks down where he and Crowley had dined shortly after deciding to work together as “godfathers.” Aziraphale smiled as he recalled their evening at the quaint bistro, Aziraphale reciting his gardening knowledge and enjoying a lemon raspberry cream cake. Crowley was listening with what he thought was a concealed smile, chin in hand, elbow on the table, spine certainly slouched with forced nonchalance, with all the etiquette of a stable mare. But that’s alright, of course. Aziraphale was smiling at his memory when he realized what had been missing from his dessert indulgences. Crowley!  
Of course it was Crowley! If Crowley were here in his shop watching him eat cake, he could be enjoying himself rather thoroughly. His cakes more sweet. His movements more noticed. His wiggles more appreciated. And his noises more cherished. Oh. Ohhhhhh. Well wasn’t this a jolly good realization. Hadn’t Crowley flat offered to, what was it? “Slither over and watch you eat cake?” Aziraphale had made a mess of things. 

He checked the calendar every day, as if it would hurry July up any. Rude of it not to comply, really. By June 28th, he set himself to task preparing for when his demon would wake up from his long quarantine nap. He prepared a picnic basket with lemonade, an assortment of berries, cucumber and dill sandwiches with smoked salmon, a fresh baguette, and of course a Victorian sponge cake he had made himself. He miracled it all to fit within the basket and not be toppled, and not to spoil either. Two days to go. 

The next morning he went for a walk, sticking to social distancing guidelines and staying in open air spaces. He selected a place in the park that would befit a splendid picnic. It was a flat patch of grass near a shady oak tree. Aziraphale may have inspired some nearby foliage to spontaneously bloom. He smiled to himself. One day to go. 

That evening he sat in his armchair with a glass of red wine and wiggled contentedly. He eyed the madeleine cookies that he had placed on a beautiful crystal platter, but he just sighed and ignored them. No point, really. He dove into a book of poetry for the night.

July 1st came, and Aziraphale waited until 9:30 to phone Crowley. “Yh?” came the answer. 

“Crowley! Dear, how was your, umm, nap? Are you quite rested?”

“Mthnk ssso.”

“Excellent! Well, the pandemic isn’t over yet, unfortunately, but I would very much like to see you. We could meet in the park. The humans are meeting outside in the open air now. What would you say to lunch? Uhh, outside, that is?”

Crowley had been trying to wake up and catch up to the cheerful angel on the other end of the phone line. He knew he wasn’t hungry, but that never factored in when he agreed to a meal with Aziraphale. Although, he remembered he wanted to sulk. Yes, sulk. That was why he had napped, wasn’t it? 

“Crowley? Are you there?”

“Yes. I’m here. Sounds good, Angel. I’ll meet you at noon.” (Like he would say no)

“Wonderful!” came the angel’s reply, and Crowley could hear the smile on Aziraphale’s face. Well, that was just unfair how contagious that was. Angel smiles. That’s your pandemic right there. It put demons to shame. Well, one specific, previously sulking demon. “Good-bye, Dear.” 

Presently, two immortal beings stood in separate buildings, joined by an invisible phone line, sharing the same smile. “See you then, Angel.” Crowley hung up his cell phone and placed it on the table. “Shit,” he pretended to grumble to himself. There, that felt natural. 

He could miracle himself ready in a jiffy, but after a long nap, Crowley liked to freshen up the human way. He took a long shower and got dressed in his fashionably tight duds. He styled his hair into a perfect replica of a lick of flame. He grabbed his glasses and watch and walked out into the sunshine. 

In Soho, Aziraphale was nearly always dressed and ready. Today was no different. He only had to miracle a few wrinkles out of his clothes and apply the cologne his barber suggested. Right, then. He grabbed the picnic basket and locked up the bookshop. He walked to the park, where he found Crowley on their bench. 

“Hello, my Dear,” Aziraphale beamed. 

“Angel! How was all your cake?” Crowley asks, looking up at Aziraphale. He thinks he does a mighty fine job of not sounding bitter.

“It was, well, they were, delicious, actually. I had quite a lot of fun baking! I, umm, picked out a spot for us, over here, if you like,” Aziraphale said as he gestured toward the oak tree that was about fifty yards away. It was then Crowley noticed the basket. 

“Oh?” Crowley said as he stood to walk with Aziraphale. Crowley wanted to address the basket, but decided to ask about the pandemic instead. Aziraphale filled him in on the updates, the guidelines of distancing, hand washing, and wearing masks, and the humans wearing masks but not covering their noses. Crowley grinned a bit at that one. 

“Really?” Aziraphale tutted as they reached the spot. Aziraphale spread out a cheerful tartan blanket and invited Crowley to sit next to him. Crowley sat. Or lounged, rather. Aziraphale smiled fondly and then began unpacking his basket. Once he was done, it looked really lovely. 

“Angel, what’s all this, anyway?” Crowley asked. This was not their usual modus operandi. Something must be up. 

“It’s a picnic, Crowley,” Aziraphale stated simply. “Surely you recognize that.”

“I, well, yeah, it’s a picnic. I just-“ Crowley stopped mid-sentence because Aziraphale was handing him a plate. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, anyway, so that worked out well.

“I was thinking, while you were sleeping. You know, we’ve dined at the Ritz a few times. But we haven’t gone for a picnic! And it’s a perfect time to enjoy one. Plus, I’ve just learned to bake and I want you to try it!” Aziraphale exaplained. 

Crowley’s wheels were visible turning. Ritz. Picnic. A memory of a thermos, and a promise. He stuffed a sandwich in his mouth, for something to chew on whilst he…chewed on that.

Aziraphale tucked into his plate, enjoying each bite and delighting in just being there with Crowley. He chatted lightly about this and that, and what Crowley may have missed while he slept. He placed the berries in his mouth one at a time, which Crowley must have noticed because he was watching. He wiggled with delight when he sipped the cool lemonade, which Crowley must have appreciated because he nearly forgot not to smile. As a matter of fact, Crowley had forgotten to eat after his first two bites of sandwich, but that was no different than usual. So when it was time for dessert, Aziraphale proudly presented his carefully crafted cake. Crowley complimented Aziraphale on the presentation and waited for Aziraphale to take his first bite before he took his. Aziraphale smiled to himself because he knew that to be true. He took a forkful of cake into his mouth and let a little pleased moan escape, which Crowley must have cherished because he looked as if he were taking a mental picture to save for later. 

Aziraphale WAS right. His cake tasted much sweeter. It was downright scrumptious. Now THIS was how he was meant to enjoy his food. 

“Crowley?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you not like it?”

“What? Oh! The cake, yeah, Angel,” and Crowley took a less than graceful bite of cake. “It’s delicious. Really, you made this? I don’t think I’ve ever had anything you’ve made before. It’s really good,” Crowley smiled. This did beat sulking in his flat. 

“Thank you. You know, I discovered I liked baking. But I also realized something Crowley. And I ought to tell you.”

Crowley leaned in to listen, curious. He cocked his head and raised his left eyebrow both in question and in invitation for Aziraphale to continue.

“I enjoy doing things with you. Which, I knew. But. Without you, meals were a bit bland and boring. And I had fun making a few recipes, but after a few of those everything else was a bit bland and boring as well. And here we are, and everything is…nice again.” Aziraphale paused to observe the demon, who was listening intently with his arms wrapped around his knees. He saw no sign of distress at the word ‘nice,’ so he continued. “So I wanted to have a picnic. With you.”

Crowley smiled a bit devilishly and said, “You misssed me.” 

“I suppose I did,” Aziraphale replied, all eyelashes and angel smiles. 

Shit. Crowley was a shit demon, because he was smiling too. He shrugged to look cool. “So, you missed me, so you wanted to go on a picnic?” 

“I…yes. But, see? I missed you. I prefer to do things with you rather than without you. Enjoying a meal of course, but anything really.” Aziraphale paused and bit his lip before continuing on. “I wanted to go for a picnic with you because I had promised that once, decades ago. And now I’d like to do everything with you. Always. If you want,” Aziraphale added. 

And Aziraphale, that bastard, looked at Crowley with a slightly questioning lower lip and vulnerable eyes. “If I want,” Crowley repeated. He shook his head. “Angel, please. Get over here.” Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and held it in both of his. He didn’t know quite what to say, so he kissed the top of Aziraphale’s hand. Aziraphale smiled so brightly he nearly glowed. Contagious, that. 

“Right.” Crowley let go of his hand and stood. He made quick work of picking up their picnic things, only to discover they didn’t fit in the basket. 

“Oh, yes, I had to perform a minor miracle for that,” Aziraphale admitted. 

Crowley snapped his fingers and it all vanished back to the bookshop. Easier, that. Plus, they were both now empty-handed. He helped Aziraphale up, and then didn’t let go of his hand as they turned to walk toward Soho. After a few steps, Aziraphale interlaced their fingers. Crowley smiled even wider. 

They continued down the path when Aziraphale suddenly released his hand and inhaled sharply. “Oh! The social distancing! I forgot. We can’t be doing that, setting a bad example for the humans.” 

Crowley looked around briefly and saw a few people scattered about. He looked back at the angel. “We don’t need distance if we’re a couple,” he said in his most convincing voice. “You can’t say then we are breaking any rules.”

“A couple. If you put it like that,” Aziraphale smiled brightly again. “That sounds rather lovely.” 

They joined hands again and walked back to the bookshop together. 

“This is, by a mile, the most productive nap I have ever had,” Crowley managed through the smile plastered on his fine face. 

“Hmm,” Aziraphale agreed. Then added, “so far.” 

What the heaven was that supposed to mean? What a lovely bastard.


End file.
